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Beneath the tepid summer night

Soft footfalls came to tread,

The bursting of the fireflies’

Lights sprinkling overhead.


The people who bore witness

Had nothing like it seen before:

Sparkling spritz a-fizzling out

- some place between the sky and floor.

To think

Such blinking lights

Were but little bugs,

Bearing magic where they went.

And no noise made the fireflies

But as micro shooting stars were sent.


One day of mediocrity

Suddenly overturned

By one numinous moment

– neither sought nor well-deserved.


A thing of fortuity

And lucky enough was I to be

Here-now with these fireflies.

To share where space-time intersects

With those transient insects

In rolling Tuscan hills that wait

Behind an evening never forgot,

Because to over-clipse the fireflies

- With their precious light that dies -

Will nothing never not.

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